


This Much of Me

by TheRightPurpleElves



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F, Sad, and now that i have this out of my system i can read all the fics i've been making myself wait for, but it is a little bit sad and i'm sorry about that, in my head they will have a happy ending, inspired by amazing fanart, they just love each other very much ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 06:52:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17844506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRightPurpleElves/pseuds/TheRightPurpleElves
Summary: Jaina's escape from the Horde's wrath heralds a visitor.Inspired by this incredible fanart right here: http://reypadawanjedi.tumblr.com/post/182890769878/after-the-new-raid-vs-jaina-buy-me-a-ko-fiplease go and give some love it is BEAUTIFUL





	This Much of Me

  “I'm the strongest I've ever been. My skill- and my cunning- and yet, it was the strangest battle I’ve ever fought,” Jaina says softly.

 

  Sylvanas does not reply. Glowing blue-grey eyes flick up to hers, only for a second, before continuing to bandage the slash over Jaina’s arm.

 

  “They were… frenzied in their hatred of me. Of what I represent.” Jaina rubs the dressing over her nose. “Am I truly so evil, Sylvanas? Do they come to you with such hatred in their eyes?”

 

  “No.” The Ranger-General’s voice brokers no question. “You are not. And yes, some are filled with loathing. Some are simply tired.” She brings out another mageweave bandage and starts to wrap a second wound with just as much care as she did the first. Her fingers leave Jaina’s skin tingling wherever she touches it. “You have only ever done what you thought was right.”

 

  “You say that like you think it wasn’t always the right thing,” Jaina says, slowly.

 

  Sylvanas takes her time with the bandage. Jaina lets the question dissipate amongst the slap of the waves on the hull, watches with heavy eyes as Sylvanas picks up the pot of balm and starts to tend to her burns and scalds. “There is another, here, below my breast.”

 

  She unbuttons her corset herself and tugs it loose to pull her undershirt up.

 

  A snort of laughter leaves her as Sylvanas flushes and turns her head away, fingers covered with balm. “Oh, come now. It’s not so scary, is it?”

 

  “I’m worried I may have the wrong reaction,” Sylvanas replies, but a smile tugs at the edges of her lips. She finally looks back. “Jaina- oh, my dalah’surfal-”

 

  Jaina lunges forwards, ignoring the pain, to kiss lips that feel too soft to be material. “I’m still here,” she whispers. “And so are you.”

 

  Now the smile on Sylvanas’s face is bitter. “For how much longer?”

 

  Jaina frowns. “She must know how much we both need this.”

 

  “Oh, Jaina, if you only knew what the worst of me is truly like.” Hair brushes Jaina’s skin as Sylvanas bends further, smooths the ointment over Jaina’s ribs, the underside of her breasts. Its gentle tickle could be the tang of sea spray on a windy day. “It is hard… sometimes she hates me for still being there. For Arthas leaving me within her to rail against her- our- worst instincts.” Sometimes the banshee lets Jaina have Sylvanas for the whole night. Sometimes it is the merest glimpse through a foggy window. “For reminding her of what she used to be and love and fight for.”

 

  “Like Vereesa?” Jaina says softly.

 

  Sylvanas stands abruptly. She walks to the porthole and stares out of it, hands clasped behind her back, and stays there while Jaina slowly and agonisingly pulls herself upright and peels the undershirt away from the weeping gash beneath.

 

  “I’m sorry,” she says. The words hang heavily in the salty air. “Come back.”

 

  Sylvanas pivots on one heel- even now, her movements are precise and militaristic, as if she had never stepped off the parade grounds- and her eyes widen at the sight of Jaina propped shakily on one arm, cupping the wound with her other hand. “Don’t hurt yourself,” she says, and drops back to her knees beside Jaina. “Hold on- let me-”

 

  Jaina can’t suppress the groan of agony as Sylvanas touches long fingers to the still-bleeding slash. “How dare they…”

 

  “Come closer,” Jaina whispers.

 

  Arms wrap round her shoulders and she nuzzles into Sylvanas’s shoulder, breathes in the scent of rain-cleaned forest, even as tears sting her eyes. “I needed that,” she murmurs. “Thank you.”

 

  Sylvanas braces her back until Jaina lies once again on her side, curled against the pain from her stomach. “Is there a priest? Someone who can come to tend you?”

 

  “I told them to save as many of the others as they could.”

 

  “Jaina-!” Sylvanas struggles to her feet only for Jaina to grab at her leg and tug her off-balance, bringing her crashing back down. “Jaina, look at you, you are losing blood. You need a healer!”

 

  “And what do you think they will do if Sylvanas Windrunner walks out there?”

 

  “Their blows will pass through me, Jaina. I’m not afraid of them.” Her mouth stretches in a mirthless smile. “Perhaps they will think the Warchief is dead.”

 

  “How can you joke about such things?”

 

  “If I do not joke, Jaina, I will cry. And that is far uglier. Keep your undershirt away from that cut-”

 

  She stops. To Jaina’s wide, panicked eyes, her whole body shimmers as though about to dissipate, her own gaze fixed desperately on Jaina’s.

 

  “No! Not yet! Tell her no!” Jaina wails. Uncaring of what Sylvanas might think, she shoves herself forwards and grabs hold of a body that already feels insubstantial. “No, dalah’surfal, please, not yet, please-”

 

  “She is jealous,” Sylvanas hisses. Tears brim over her eyes, but no wetness falls to the cabin floor. “Jealous of you, and jealous of me, and Nathanos is nearby and he will know if we are not together. Find a healer, Jaina, please, find someone to look after you, and get back to Boralus with your head held high.”

 

  Jaina’s arms tighten. She can feel Sylvanas’s every muscle strain against the banshee’s insistence. “I promise,” she whispers. “I will call them now. Go, go to her, make her whole again.”

 

  Something that could be a sob wrenches its way from Sylvanas’s lips. “Whole… until next we meet, my dalah’surfal.” And she is gone, and Jaina falls back, breathing in greedy gulps of the scent of summer rain and Thalassian pine.

 

  “I’m so sorry, dalah’surfal,” she says to the crash of the sea. “I’m so sorry.” And she flops a hand out to ring the bell by the door.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry this turned out so so sad! Ofc in my head someone (*cough* Alexstrasza hi yes this is a good time idc you're not an Aspect any more just help ok) takes pity on Sylvanas and helps her and the banshee so it'll all turn out ok because I'm a big old sap. Did I mention I'm ridiculously soppy?
> 
> Thank you so much for reading if you got this far and I promise I'm making progress on my main fic too!! Any feedback is enormously appreciated!


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